


Send Off

by Bexless



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexless/pseuds/Bexless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Brad," Adam says against his lips when the kiss breaks. "Please. Take me home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Send Off

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a historical roleplay prompt, tralala. Warning for commitment to drama queen motion, I guess. Many thanks to Wax :)

It's late, and it's been a long day, and when the tall shadow of a man fills the doorway to the bar, Brad calls out, "Sorry, buddy, we're closing."

When he looks up, though, the face is familiar, even if the uniform and the slicked-back hair aren't. Adam.

Brad looks away, determinedly down at the rag he's wiping over the counter. He doesn't look up when Adam orders his usual scotch, just tosses two rocks in the glass and measures out the liquor and sets it down – and that's when Adam's long fingers close around Brad's wrist.

"Don't," says Brad, pulling his hand free. "I told you not to come here."

"How could I not?" Adam says quietly, urgently. "Brad, I'm leaving in a few hours. Please, please don't make me leave without saying goodbye."

"You wouldn't have to say goodbye at all if you'd just told them-"

"Not here," Adam hisses, looking around. The bar's empty but that's how Adam is: careful, too careful. He cares what people think of him.

"I'm not ashamed," Brad tells him, meeting his eyes now and jutting his chin deliberately up into the air. "I'm not ashamed even if you are, don't come in here and tell me-"

Adam cuts him off with a kiss, leaning over the bar, his hand wrapped around the back of Brad's neck, his tongue pushing into Brad's mouth and they never kiss where people might see, never, and Brad clings to Adam's broad shoulders, made wider by the jacket they've buttoned him into, clings on like he can keep Adam from leaving after all.

"Brad," Adam says against his lips when the kiss breaks. "Please. Take me home."

As if Brad has ever once told Adam no.

  
They keep the careful distance between them on the way home. Brad watches Adam's pale hands knotted together between his knees. The shiny, ugly shoes on his feet, and the gleam of the product sweeping his hair back from his face.

"They're gonna cut your hair," he blurts out suddenly, turning onto his street. "Adam, they're gonna give you a _crew cut_."

"I know," says Adam, and Brad thinks he sees the corner of Adam's mouth twitch, like he thinks it's funny, like he thinks Brad being worried about something so stupid as hair is funny, like controlling the way a person looks isn't the key to locking them up inside themselves, like that isn't dangerous or terrible at all.

"I am so angry at you," Brad says then, bringing the car to a stop and folding his arms across his chest. "This is so _stupid_ , why couldn't you just register and then they wouldn't even want you for their stupid war."

"You know why," Adam says gently.

"No, I don't!" Brad cries, thumping the steering wheel. "I don't know why! Could it be so bad? Could it be worse than this?"

"If they threw my ass in jail for dodging the draft?"

Brad laughs bitterly, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "You think they wouldn't believe you? You don't pass as good as you think you do, baby."

Adam shrugs, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. "And if they did? They call it a mental disorder, Brad."

"Better crazy than dead!"

"Is it," says Adam flatly, turning away to look out of the window.

They sit in silence for a while until Brad can't bear to listen to his watch ticking away the seconds anymore. "Let's get inside," he says, and opens the car door.

Adam brings his heavy bag with him, dumps it inside Brad's bedroom and turns to look at him. Now they're inside Brad can't bear it anymore, can't bear Adam in that uniform, can't bear not to be touching him, and he attacks with both hands, scrabbling at buttons and shoving fabric aside until he can find his Adam underneath.

"You can't get hurt," he begs, spreading his hands over Adam's skin and shutting his eyes against the thought of it torn open and bleeding and scarred. He rests both hands over the beat of Adam's precious heart and thinks of every prayer he knows, trying to press them inside with his fingers. "Adam, you have to come back to me, you have to promise me that."

"I promise," Adam says, voice broken and his big hands desperate on Brad's skin. Brad lets Adam pick him up and carry him to the bed, lay him down there and strip his clothes away.

"You'll wait for me," Adam begs, and Brad wraps himself around Adam as tightly as he can, arms legs everything. "Wait for me, Brad, say you will."

"I will, I will, I will," Brad chants.

Adam goes over every inch of him, reverent and deliberate, like he's memorizing Brad, learning him by heart. Brad gives himself over to Adam's fingers and tongue and tries to stay quiet, biting down first on his lip and then his own forearm when it's too much and he wants to scream Adam's name and not give a damn about who might hear them, who might find them out.

When he can't take it anymore he fumbles for the open tub of Vaseline, slicks Adam's cock quickly and struggles to lift his legs higher, pulling Adam in. Adam get up on his knees and lifts Brad's legs to hook over his shoulders, and when he pushes in it's like it always is, too much and perfect and overwhelming and chasing every thought out of Brad's head – except one, this time, which is that this might be the _last_ time.

"Adam," he cries involuntarily, and Adam's there all of a sudden, gathering Brad close as he begins to rock in and out. Brad winds his hands in Adam's hair and kisses him desperately.

"I'm coming back for you," Adam pants shakily, touching their foreheads together. "I'm coming back for you and we're going to go away together and find someplace where it's safe, and we can be together no matter what."

"Promise me," Brad begs, and Adam does, says, "I promise," says it over and over and over again until the words run dry and they're crying out instead, shaking and clinging together, eyes shut against the unstoppable march of the clock on the wall.

Afterwards, Brad's ears ring in the silence. Adam doesn't talk, just gets them both cleaned up, kissing Brad's skin after each swipe of the cloth. He stands and dresses in silence, combs his hair back into place in the mirror, face stern and closed.

Brad sits wrapped in the wrecked sheets and watches him. Eventually Adam is done, and comes to sit on the edge of the bed next to Brad.

"I'll write to you through Danielle," he says, taking Brad's hand. "The letters will be addressed to her, but every word will be for you."

Brad nods, clinging to Adam's hand. His eyes are burning and he blinks fiercely, biting on his lip to stop it from trembling.

"Brad," Adam says, so gentle Brad aches with it.

Brad lets go and wipes his hands roughly across his face, takes a few deep breaths. Then he reaches into the nightstand. "I have something for you."

He hands it over. It's a photograph. Just a small one, small enough for Adam to carry around if he'd like. In it Brad is just barely facing the camera, blonde hair tumbling down over his shoulder, painted lips and wide eyes visible from the side.

"Nobody will be able to tell," Brad says softly. Adam is just staring down at the picture, his jaw clenched tight. "You should have a picture of someone who loves you."

Adam stares at it for a few more moments, then slides it carefully away in the inside pocket of his jacket. He grabs Brad and kisses him roughly, hands cupping his jaw, then lets him go abruptly and stands up.

"I have to go," he says, his voice thick and choked.

Brad watches him pick up his duffel and walk towards the door.

"Adam."

Adam stops, sorrow and weariness hanging off him in heavy waves. He turns to look at Brad over his shoulder, and this is where Brad says, _I love you, I'll wait for you, just promise me you'll stay alive_ , but when he opens his mouth, that isn't what comes out.

What comes out is, "Priscilla."

Adam drops his bag immediately and hurries over to the bed, sitting down and pulling Brad into his arms. "What is it, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Brad says, scrambling into Adam's lap. "I'm okay, it's okay."

"Did I do something wrong?" Adam says, rubbing big circles over Brad's back with the palm of his hand. "Was it just not how you imagined?"

"It was awesome," Brad says, shaking his head. He sits back and looks Adam in the face, loops his arms around Adam's neck. "But I want to change the ending, okay?"

"Okay," Adam nods. "Whatever you want."

"Say you get caught leaving," Brad says eagerly, "and then the army doesn't want you and we run away, like you said, and we find someplace safe, and we start a – a movement, or whatever, something, change the world, and everything works out all right."

"Yeah, yeah," Adam says, moving them so he's sitting up against the headboard with Brad cradled in his lap. "That's what we'll do. That's how it ends."

"Okay," Brad sighs, relieved, and snuggles against Adam's chest. Adam's arms come tightly around him and Brad closes his eyes, enjoying the squeeze. "Sorry," he says a little sheepishly. "You can totally pick the next one. I thought that was the ending I wanted, really."

"Don't apologize," Adam says, and peers down at him. "It's not like I didn't know you were a Libra."

Brad leans up and kisses Adam's jaw, bites at his chin. "I thought it would be kind of tragic and romantic? You know? But then you were leaving and I knew I would probably never see you again and you would die horribly and I would end up flinging myself on your coffin when they wouldn't give me the stupid folded flag because I couldn't tell them you loved me and it wasn't romantic at all, it was just, like..."

"Awful," Adam finishes for him.

"Exactly," says Brad, and then pulls back to get a good look at Adam in the light. "But you look _good_ in that uniform, though."

"Yeah?" Adam smiles, looking down at himself. "You like that, huh?"

"Uh huh," Brad drawls, letting his eyes wander all the way down Adam's body and back up again. "Totally Army Elvis. But prettier," he adds, and kisses Adam's pleased smile. "Can you hang onto it for a while?"

Adam shakes his head. "Gotta get it back tomorrow before rehearsal. And I really don't want to have to get it dry-cleaned."

Brad pouts, but revises his plan for a very special bedazzling ceremony. "And there's no chance your costume department might be convinced to stage a coup and demand some serious changes to _Wicked_ 's usual production values? Because not that I don't appreciate tights, but I could get used to seeing you in this every night."

"I really doubt it," Adam laughs.

"And as your biggest fan I have to tell you that your performance this evening was particularly spectacular," Brad goes on. "I feel sorry for people whose boyfriends _aren't_ professional actors."

"Yeah, you weren't so bad yourself," Adam says. "In the car, I actually thought you might take a swing at me."

Brad twirls his fingers in the air. "Totally method, baby."

Adam laughs and slides his hand into the inside pocket of the jacket, pulling out the photograph Brad gave him before. "What about this, when did you get this done? It's so awesome!"

"I know!" Brad bounces a little on the bed. "I posed for it a couple weeks ago. There are like a hundred more but that was the best one."

"It's beautiful," Adam coos over it, stroking the edge with a fingertip. "Damn, baby, you were _prepared_."

"I'm a very dedicated performer," Brad informs him, letting his fingertips walk up Adam's tie.

"Can I keep it?"

"Of course!" Brad leans in and kisses him again. "It's a gift for you, silly."

Adam props the picture up against the water bottle on the nightstand. He looks at it happily for a minute.

Brad says, "Do you ever think about what it would really have been like? For me and you, back then?"

"Not if I can help it," Adam grimaces. "I'll tell you something, though, if they decide they want homos in the military after all just in time to ship a bunch of people off to die, I am gonna be pissed."

Brad laughs, tipping his head against Adam's shoulder. "And personally I would like to register my gratitude for the miraculous advancements science has made since then in the field of lube." He straddles Adam's lap properly, holding on to his shoulders. "We would have found each other, though," he states.

"Of course," Adam says, cupping his hands around Brad's waist. "Of course we would. We're on the same path, isn't that what you always say?"

Brad nods, sliding his hands under the lapels of Adam's jacket. "Riding the same star."

Adam smiles, drops his hands to rest on Brad's bare thighs. "Riding the same star."

Brad has to kiss him again, then, just because he can.

After a minute Adam pulls back, making a face. "I gotta take this off, baby, it's itchy as hell."

Brad squirms backwards and lets Adam get up, watches him strip out of the uniform. "You can leave the undershirt on," he says, smiling and catching his bottom lip in his teeth the way Adam likes. "And the dog tags."

"Oh yeah?" Adam says, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Brad purrs, pulling him back into bed. He rubs his hands greedily over Adam's bare, freckled skin, squeezes his biceps, strong from throwing dancing girls around every night. "Mm-mm-mmm, look at those arms."

Adam doesn't say anything, just laughs softly and lets Brad have his way. Brad kisses him quickly, then reaches up to snag one of the scarves hanging over the headboard, draping it around his shoulders and batting his eyelashes at Adam.

"What do you think?" he says coyly. "Reluctant hero soldier falls in madly passionate but totally forbidden love with local courtesan?"

"I thought I could pick the next one," Adam reminds him, already tightening his arms around Brad's waist.

"But I have such good ideas," Brad wheedles.

"You do," Adam concedes. "Now shut up and kiss me, the sergeant's gonna realize I'm gone before too long."

Brad laughs with delight and lets Adam flip him backwards onto the bed, climb on top and press Brad down into the covers, heavy and tall and strong. Brad winds his arms around Adam's neck and gives him everything he demands, lets Adam take him all the way up and over the top, and he makes all the noise he wants while they're soaring, too, because Adam is here, and Brad loves him, and it doesn't matter at all who knows.


End file.
